


The Shattered Teacup: This is My Coffee Shop

by atallrose32



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M, bitchy alana bloom, coffee shop owner hannibal lector, up to no good jack crawford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27256711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atallrose32/pseuds/atallrose32
Summary: Will Graham convinces Alana Bloom to meet him at a cafe so that he can try to get her to talk to Jack Crawford.  Except Jack has been dead for two years.  Hannibal is intrigued by Will's declaration that he can talk to the dead.
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

The Shattered Teacup: This is My Coffee Shop

Chapter 1

The door startles Will Graham as it closes with a slam and a cheery jingle behind him. He looks up apologetically at the man behind the counter, his shoulders raised tensely.  
“Sorry,” he says.  
“No worries, you just reminded me that I need to fix the tension on that cord. Have a seat anywhere you like.”  
Will nods his head and releases his hunched posture. He takes a seat at a booth closest to the counter, facing the door so that his back is to the shop worker. They’re the only ones here and that makes Will anxious since it may require him to be sociable. He picks up a menu from the table and looks things over. His stomach is tight with hunger, but he doesn’t want to order anything until his friend arrives. Will checks the time on his watch. To his dismay he realizes that he’s fifteen minutes early while Alana is habitually a late comer. Will decides this will go smoother if his stomach isn’t growling. He awkwardly slides out of the booth to head back to the counter to place his order.  
Will can feel his heart pounding heavily in his chest as he rehearses his order in his head. He forces his eyes up to make direct contact with the shop worker. His cheeks redden from the effort. Not to mention he can’t help but notice how attractive the coffee shop worker is. His ashy-brown hair is carefully parted to the side, smoothed away from his forehead. His face is lean with sharp cheekbones while fuller lips note the down-turned shape of his mouth, making it difficult to pin down what emotion shades his face. His eyes escape color codification, whenever Will thinks green the light catches some brown. He decides on the lazy label of hazel.  
He clears his throat. “Can I place an order for food or is it too late?” As the words leave his mouth Will scans the menu again for the café’s hours. The back of his neck starts to prickle with sweat. He normally isn’t this socially awkward but this meeting with Alana has set his nerves aflame with worry.  
The man smiles a little, delightfully creasing the skin around his eyes. People call these wrinkles crow’s feet, but they more often remind Will of starbursts. Will can’t help but smile, just a little bit, back.  
“I don’t close for another hour, so you can order whatever you like.” He leans his elbows on the counter, moving a little forward and drops his voice to a whisper. “Just don’t let the other customers know.” He punctuates this with a quick wink.  
Will forces a small laugh, which comes out more like hushed air than sound. He closes his eyes for a moment, wishing that it didn’t always have to be this rough to interact with kind people. He quickly opens his eyes and scans the shop worker’s broad chest for a name tag. Nothing. Great. So now it looks like he just checked out some guy for no good reason. Will wishes for a quick death. He opens his mouth to order, to try to recover some lost dignity, when the door slams behind him. His shoulders immediately tense up. He squints his eyes, scrunching his face against the loud noise.  
“Someone should fix that door,” Alana says.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Will relaxes his face since the wait is now over, she’s here, but his shoulders refuse to ease their tension knowing that the worst is yet to come.  
None of this goes unnoticed by the café owner. Hannibal Lector knew that he would like this shy and most likely a little lonely young man the moment they locked eyes when the door crashed closed behind him. Because truth be told, there is nothing wrong with the tension cord. Well, it is loose, just as he had adjusted it to be with the intention of gauging the rudeness of his next customer. This always warrants further investigation and perhaps punishment.  
Will finds that it’s no longer as easy as it was to make eye contact with the man behind the counter now. So, he keeps his gaze lowered to the menu that he’s holding.  
“Are you ordering without me? That’s so typical.” Alana unwinds the burgundy scarf from her neck and drapes it on the standing coat rack next to the door. She unbuttons her heavy black peacoat and slips out of it, placing the coat on the same limb as her scarf. She takes off her matte black gloves and tucks them into her coat pocket.   
She briskly strides to the counter, sizing up the cozy café as her heels sound against the floor announcing her steps, here, here, here, here. Her purse bumps against her hip with each step. She flicks her eyes up at Hannibal, giving him a thin-lipped smile.   
“Ummm, just give me a second,” she says as she leans into Will’s personal space to read the menu that he’s holding.  
“What kind of place is this? I thought you said they serve breakfast. I don’t see any eggs or bacon.” Alana takes the menu from Will’s hand to further inspect its offerings.   
Hannibal notices a tiny muscle under Will’s right eye begin to twitch. Will rubs at his eye.   
“There’s dairy free cheese and tofu protein scramble.” Will was hoping that Alana wouldn’t notice that this is a plant-based café. He thought that she would get here late and just eat half of what he had already ordered.   
Alana frowns. “I guess I’ll get the avocado toast thingy but no onions.”  
Hannibal nods his head while writing down the order. He looks at Will. “And for you?”  
Alana catches the way he looks at Will. She flips her long dark hair and smiles brightly.   
“Yeah Will, what do you want?”  
“Ahh, the number two combo with a fruit cup and a hot house tea?”  
Hannibal scribbles down the rest of the order and enters it on the computer pad.   
“Your total is 16.83.”  
Will reaches for his wallet in his back pocket. Alana places her hand on his shoulder and squeezes.  
“No, no. My treat.” She deftly reaches into her purse and puts a twenty on the counter. “Keep the change,” she says with another fabulous smile.  
Hannibal smirks. “You’re too kind,” he says.   
Alana’s smile dims a little. She redirects her attentions to Will, flicking her luscious hair again. “So, where are we sitting?”  
Will cocks his head toward the booth. Alana doesn’t wait, she walks over without Will and takes the seat that’s facing the counter. She makes a show of crossing her legs as she watches Hannibal walk to the back to prepare their order. Will mouths sorry to him before he turns away. His steps feel heavy as he walks to the booth.   
“Do you think he’s single?” Alana whispers. She adjusts her red skirt up a little higher above her knees.   
Will shrugs and slides into the booth. Alana gazes into the distance for a moment, her head tilted to one side, pondering silently.   
“Anyway,” she says, snapping her head upright, “what did you want to talk about?”  
Will takes a deep breath and holds it for a second. His stomach lurches and he isn’t sure if it’s from hunger or nerves. “Why won’t you come and see Jack?” His words tumble out in a deflated rush.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Alana closes her eyes. She raises a hand and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Not this again Will. Because he’s dead, that’s why. He’s been dead for two years now.”  
Will opens his mouth to interject but Alana puts her hand up.  
“Enough Will. He isn’t a ghost. He isn’t in your closet. Which sounds a lot like projection to me. Now let’s talk about something more pleasant, huh?” She riffles through her purse seated next to her. Alana finds a rollerball of sample perfume and applies it to her wrists before dipping it down between her cleavage.  
Will can feel it crowd around him like a dense pink cloud, it smells expensively overbearing. Clattered noise erupts from the back. Will licks his lips, tasting the chemical sting of the perfume, and tries again.  
“He said that what you did to that baby bird the other night wasn’t very humane. And he was surprised that you threw away those designer shoes since you only got them last week and they weren’t even on sale.” His words are quieter than he intended. Alana doesn’t react. Will isn’t sure if she heard him.  
He swallows dryly and considers repeating himself.  
“Bullshit. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her mouth gets very small, something that happens when she’s angry. She leans back against the cushioned rest and crosses her arms.  
Will relaxes a little, feeling like he has control of the situation now. “You stepped on it on purpose. You drove your stiletto through its tiny head, but it got stuck. And you had to use your other shoe to push it off. It was still twitching.”  
She leans forward, her eyes blazing. “Shut up. Shut the fuck up right now.” Her tone is stern but hushed. Her eyes flick to the front counter, looking for the guy to bring their order.  
Hannibal emerges from the back with both of their orders on a tray as he walks to their booth.  
“He said that the person you’re becoming,” Will pauses, he doesn’t want to use the words Jack did. Sour. Cruel. Rotten. Alana was always trying to impress Jack. And those words would wound her. “He doesn’t like that you’ve let your work overtake your life. It’s changing you.”  
Alana’s cheeks flush with embarrassment, almost matching the shade of red on her button-down blouse. “Shut up Will,” she says through clenched teeth.  
The café owner is mere steps away from their booth now, a smile tipping the corners of his mouth upwards. Will notices this and lowers his voice even further, leaning closer to Alana.  
“And he said,” but he doesn’t get to finish.  
Alana slaps Will.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The sound carries in the empty café in a taunting sort of way. Will can feel the hot sting from the imprint of her hand travel across his cheek and down his neck. The sound and the action itself summon tears to his eyes. She’s never hit him before. Sure, they’ve had their disagreements with raised voices, but never hitting. Friends don’t hit each other. Hannibal stops moving, the smile slides from his face. Will looks to Alana with tears standing in his eyes threatening to run down his cheeks but she’s looking past him. He turns to look at Hannibal. A single plump tear rolls over Will’s bottom lash line. Will brushes it away before it travels far. He watches Hannibal’s face shift to stone.   
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” His deep tone is stern.  
Alana finally looks at Will. “This is a personal matter and quite frankly it’s none of your business and,” Alana tries to continue but Hannibal interrupts her.  
“And this is my coffee shop, where you just assaulted one of my customers. I’ll ask you once more, please leave.”  
Alana stays seated for a few more moments. She looks at Hannibal and then back to Will. She shakes her head in disbelief and sighs. She begrudgingly shimmies out from the booth and stands up. She slings her purse on her shoulder and raises a pointed finger at Will.  
“We’re not done discussing this. And you,” she whips her head to Hannibal, “what’s your name?”  
“Hannibal Lector.”  
“Well, Hannibal Lector I’ll be making a complaint with the Better Business Bureau.” She can’t help herself as she checks him out again, eyes patting down the sides of his khaki pants, accessing his leanness, groping his muscles through the thin white button-down shirt. She shakes her head in disappointment.  
Alana quickly walks to the exit, grabs her belongings, and leaves without putting them on.   
Will watches her go, jumping a little as the door crashes closed once more. He isn’t ready to look at Hannibal yet, instead he keeps his eyes fixed on the door, replaying Alana leaving on a loop in his mind. He doesn’t know what to say and he’s too embarrassed to try to form the right words. The shock of being slapped in public still echoes against his skin.   
“I umm,” Will starts, “I’m sorry about all of this.” He pauses to clear his suddenly thick throat. “You’ll have to excuse my friend; she hasn’t been herself lately. I mean, she’s not usually like that.” Will fights the urge to continue, to explain that this is all his fault really. He doesn’t want Hannibal to judge Alana too harshly on how she reacted.   
“May I?” Hannibal tilts his head towards Alana’s vacant seat.  
It takes a moment for Will to notice the subtle movement, he gives a small nod in return, prompting Hannibal to put the tray down before sliding in. He divvies up the order, Will receiving his while Hannibal claims Alana’s avocado toast.   
“You’re not the one that should be apologizing,” Hannibal says.   
Will sighs heavily. He props his elbows on the table and cradles his head in his hands, his fingers tangle in his curly hair as he massages his scalp.   
“Oh, I’m not so sure about that. How would you react if someone told you the ghost of your previous employer is cozied up in your closet and smokes cigars at night while you’re trying to sleep?”  
No response. Silence.   
Will lifts his head a little to peak out from under his curls at Hannibal, curious what emotion shapes his face. Intrigue is the answer.  
“I would be curious. And I certainly would want to see this phenomenon for myself. I wouldn’t accost someone, especially in such a nice little coffee shop.” Hannibal takes a bite of the avocado toast, hoping to lure Will into partaking in his order before it gets cold.   
Will feels himself brighten. He corrects his posture and reaches for the warm mug of tea, wrapping both of his hands around it. He inhales, closing his eyes to better process the floral notes and earthy undertone. He takes a tentative sip, holding the liquid in his mouth for a moment, coating his tongue and the walls of his cheeks with the images of small white flowers sprouting between dead leaves. He swallows as Hannibal watches. Will opens his eyes, fixing them on Hannibal.  
“This tea is delicious,” he says.  
Hannibal smirks. Will puts the mug down. He absentmindedly brings his hands to his cheeks to rub his warmed palms against them. They sit quietly, enjoying their food. Will drinks more of his tea. He can feel his anxiety crawling up from his feet, to his calves, to his thighs. He starts to bounce one of his legs, hoping to shake this energy off. It’s pointless, he knows this. Will knows that the only way to release this is to open his mouth and let the words fly out like the trapped birds that they are.  
Hannibal leans back against the booth, waiting for Will to speak.  
Will crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”  
Hannibal cocks a brow.  
Will uncrosses his arms and leans forward a little. His leg stops bouncing.   
“About wanting to see it for yourself?”


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Will didn’t plan for this, inviting a stranger named Hannibal Lector into his home, to meet the ghost that lives in his closet. The absurdity of this makes him giddy. But he isn’t sure if he has the nerve to say the words. He needs Hannibal to say them, to invite himself over to Will’s personal and very private space.  
Hannibal takes longer to answer than Will is prepared for. Will can feel the oily nausea of defeat on the back of his tongue. His body sinks a little. The café lights seem to dim lower; the walls huddle closer.   
“I don’t know if I’m prepared for the insights your friend has to say about me,” Hannibal says.  
“You heard what I said to Alana?” Will asks, feeling panic flutter in his chest.   
“Not enough to understand. But judging by her reaction, she didn’t like what Jack wanted you to relay to her.”  
“You’re not like her though,” Will says.  
“No, I’m not,” Hannibal says, letting that sentence hang in the air without further validation.   
Will perks up a little. “In that case, I think Jack would be happy to talk to someone who isn’t me for a change.”   
Hannibal checks his watch. Will forgot how late it is, he probably needs to close the cafe. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe some other time. Maybe.   
“Good thing I’m closed for the night then,” Hannibal says. He gets up and starts collecting the plates.  
Will practically stumbles out from the booth while Hannibal takes the dishes to the back room. The music goes quiet. When he comes back out, his apron is gone, and his coat is on.  
“Don’t you have other things to do? Like the deposit and receipts?” Will remembers the brief time he worked at a bookshop years ago; each night shift ended with closing out the register.  
“It can be handled tomorrow. The boss and I are on good terms.” There’s that smirk again.  
Will smiles at Hannibal and the sincerity of it shocks his heart to a moment of stillness. He has to think to breathe again. Will steps closer to Hannibal, making Hannibal notice the spiderwebs of burst veins from too many late nights latticing around his blue irises.   
“I think we should be introduced before you invite me to your home,” Hannibal says.  
Will huffs a laugh. “Will Graham,” he says, offering his hand.  
“Hannibal Lector.” Hannibal embraces Will’s hand with his own. It feels like something more than friendship. It feels like being seen. Entirely seen and accepted.  
Will pulls back first. “This is all a little strange,” he says.  
“And if your ghost is willing to meet me, it will only get stranger,” Hannibal says.   
They walk to the door together. Hannibal locks up and turns the lights off before looking to Will for direction.  
“I’ll follow you. Which one is your car?” Hannibal scans the near empty streets.  
“I walked,” Will says.   
Will can feel Hannibal slightly bristle.  
“I’m only a few blocks away. I like to walk at night. Especially when the moon is out.” Will’s face starts to get warm.  
“You can drive, and I’ll tell you where to go.” Will offers.  
Hannibal looks up to the navy dark sky, searching for the moon. He finds it, waning gibbous tonight, almost full of itself.   
“Let’s not waste the fair weather while we have it,” Hannibal says.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

They walk in silence for an entire block. Will walks slower than usual, wanting to stretch the time between now and later. There’s a chill in the air that’s nestled itself in the tendrils of his hair. He feels calm. Walking like this feels romantic to him; a hushed late night, yellow streetlights, the smell of earthy dead leaves, footsteps keeping in time with his own falling beside him. If he were braver, he would reach out his hand for Hannibal’s, clasping their gloveless hands together against the cold. Will shoves his hands deeper into his pockets.   
“There’s something else too,” Will says.  
Hannibal’s steps don’t falter as he inclines his head towards Will.  
Will keeps his eyes forward, letting the streetlights blur his vision.  
“Sometimes the doors in my house don’t open to the rooms in my house. Well at least not this house. It’s never the front door for some reason, it must be the threshold or something.”  
“Where do they open to?”  
Will inhales the cool night air, it makes him feel lighter. “It depends on what I’m thinking about. Sometimes it’s my childhood home. Other times it’s Jack’s office.”  
They turn down a treelined lane and keep walking. Will points at a white house with a porch.   
“That’s me.”  
They walk down the driveway, navigating between the splits in the concrete where the weeds started to reclaim their territory. Will starts to feel buzzy and dizzy. They stand under the porch light, Will turns to Hannibal.  
“Are you sure?” Will asks.  
Hannibal nods.  
Will isn’t satisfied. “There’s no going back after this. Once the veil is lifted everything takes on new shapes and colors.”  
“I’m ready for a new perspective,” Hannibal says.  
“Thank you for doing this. If, umm anything happens to me, like you can’t find me,” Will pauses to force a laugh, to make light of the situation, “and Alana comes around to your café to ask about me, just tell her that I went on a little vacation.”  
“Okay,” Hannibal says.  
Will hesitates a moment, resting his shaking hand on the doorknob. He takes a steady breath and mutters, “here we go,” quietly before swinging the door open wide. He leans in and looks around. His eyes flick over to Hannibal and he motions with his head for Hannibal to come inside. Will shuts the door behind them.  
Lights from the back of the house flicker like candlelight.   
“Jack? Jack are you here?”   
Hannibal steps closer to Will, feeling waves of cold emanating from his body. He stares at the back of Will’s neck, seeing the goosebumps slowly raise his skin. Hannibal closes his eyes and leans a little closer, inhaling Will’s scent deeply. Feverish.  
“There! Did you see him?” Will turns too quickly, knocking a shoulder into Hannibal.   
“Oof, sorry. I didn’t know you were so close.” Will looks at Hannibal, searching his face for emotion. Hannibal’s eyes look heavy with worry.   
Courage surges through Will’s limbs as he reaches down for Hannibal’s hand to hold. He watches as Hannibal’s fingers respond to his touch and they intertwine themselves with his. Will looks up at Hannibal through his thick dark lashes and smiles, albeit a little cautiously. Hannibal would love nothing more than for Will to wreck him, body and soul.   
Will clears his throat before calling out again for Jack. He breaks eye contact with Hannibal, redirecting his gaze to the hallway toward the back of his house. Hannibal follows suit.   
“Jack? I brought a friend with me. I want you to meet him. His name is Hannibal.”  
Hannibal watches a tall figure glide across the hallway, seemingly leaving one room to enter another. He is a shadow suspended on dust. Now Hannibal feels cold.  
“You saw that, right?” Will whispers.  
Hannibal nods, tightening his grip on Will a little more. Will starts to walk to the back room where Jack went. Hannibal follows, trailing slightly behind. When they reach the bedroom, Hannibal can’t help but notice the faint cigar smell. Will flicks on the overhead light. Swirls of smoke cloud the room. Several piles of clothes are heaped on the far side of the bed while pairs of shoes line the wall.   
“I think he left.” Will’s shoulders slump as he lets go of Hannibal’s hand.  
Hannibal feels disappointed for the lack of touch. Something inside his chest twitches with regret.   
“Unless,” Will says before rushing to the closet door and swinging it open.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

He turns to Hannibal and smiles proudly. Hannibal is too stunned to smile back; he needs to catch his breath first. Will motions Hannibal over. He obliges and peeks into the completely empty closet. Will steps inside and sits down on the floor. He looks up at Hannibal, an unspoken invitation to join him, to take a seat.  
“Will we both fit?” Hannibal asks, his voice more gruff than he can control from thinking about pressing his body against Will’s. The closet is barely three feet wide and four feet deep. In Hannibal’s opinion this is passably acceptable for a linen closet, not for one’s personal wardrobe. There isn’t even a light.   
Will doesn’t say anything for fear of his voice breaking, instead he pats the space next to him. Hannibal walks into the closet, considers closing the door but isn’t sure if that will ruin how this works. He sits next to Will, trying to give Will some space but his broad shoulders and the confined area won’t allow it. Hannibal pulls his shoulders back but that only results in the sides of their bodies being flush together. He watches the blush travel up Will’s neck to his cheeks.  
“The door,” Will says. He crouches up a touch and balances forward to close the door via a thin string looped around the knob.   
Hannibal let’s his eyes travel to the destination of Will’s firm looking ass while he still has the light to do so. Darkness engulfs them when the door closes, and Will settles back into his spot slowly since his eyes still are adjusting to the shock of dark. The last thing he wants is to end up on Hannibal’s lap. Will draws his knees up to hide the flicker of lust twitching below his waistband. Their eyes adjust with the help from the light glowing under the door.   
“One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi,” Will inhales, “one mississippi, two mississippi, three,” he exhales and the light under the door warbles and bends iridescently, “one mississippi, two, three.”   
Wisps of smoke reach their fingers under the door, illuminated by a soft yellow light. Not at all like the blaring overhead light Will had left on. Will stands up, as does Hannibal. He reaches for the door, looking once more at Hannibal who nods his consent. Will turns the knob and slowly opens the door.  
They are in a library or an office of sorts. Built in bookshelves line the back wall, there’s a heavy looking desk placed at an angle in the corner of the room facing the door. A man lounges in a tan leather recliner opposite the desk smoking a thick cigar. A small lamp with a stained green glass shade rests on its side on the floor next to the recliner. A wide grin spreads across the seated man’s face. He leisurely takes another pull from the cigar.   
“So, this is Hannibal? I was hoping for Alana,” Jack says. He crosses an ankle over to his thigh and leans back.  
“Hey Jack,” Will says.  
The polite thing to do would be to shake Jack’s hand but Hannibal isn’t sure where to step given the sheets of paper strewn about the floor.   
“Go ahead, pick those up.” His grin looks downright devious the way the lamp casts shadows about his face.   
“Jack. Don’t be rude,” Will says. He inclines his head closer to Hannibal. “He did the same thing to me the first time I was in here. It’s a little joke he likes to play.”  
“What happens if I do?” Hannibal also tilts his head closer to Will, a breadth away from their lips touching.  
Jack laughs, a sturdy and hardy sound, especially considering all the smoke that must be housed in his lungs.  
“See for yourself.” Jack taunts.  
Hannibal turns to look back at the closet. It’s still the same small empty space that they stepped into. Maybe there was another door in the closet that led them to here, like a secret part of the house. That could be why the smell of cigar smoke was faint throughout the house. Jack leans forward and flicks an ash off the tip of the cigar. Hannibal watches it swirl down toward the oval shaped forest green area rug. It disappears before it reaches the rug. Hannibal’s eyes dart back up to Jack’s cigar where the ash seemingly restored itself.   
“See?” Jack asks.  
Curiosity gets the best of him, bending his knees to kneel and gather up some of the closer papers. Hannibal shuffles the papers neatly in his hands before picking up the rest laying in front of the desk. He places the stack on the desk. Will firmly grasps Hannibal’s bicep to pull him back.  
“Yeah, you might want to stand back,” Jack says.  
Hannibal lets Will direct him to where he should stand. Even with all this intrigue Hannibal still feels the warmth from Will’s touch surge through his body, pooling in his stomach. Jack frowns for a moment. He throws the cigar on to his desk, aiming for the stack of papers. The cigar sparks as it contacts the paper then it rolls off landing softly on the floor. Jack is pulled up violently from his chair and moves backward to his desk. The papers shuffle themselves to their correct position on the desk as the lamp reverses back through the air until it reaches its rightful position on the desk. Jack sits down.   
He reaches into a desk drawer to retrieve a fresh cigar and a lighter. He indulges in his dirty little addiction, reveling in the tobacco sting searing the back of his throat. He coughs, even after all these years of sneaking a smoke it still manages to catch his lungs off guard. The cough turns to a worrying choke, he gasps for air, half getting up from his chair. Jack’s head sways as his hands search for stability on his desk, messing the papers about. Another deep belly cough sends him forward onto the desk. He can feel blood coat the inside of his mouth. The papers flit through the air and settle on the floor like ash. The cigar loosens from between his two fingers and rolls into the waste basket. With grimace parted and blood lined lips Jack struggles to take a deep breath, he makes a noise like he’s drowning. Pain shakes his heart like a dog with a fresh kill. With what little strength he has left, Jack picks up the lamp from his desk and launches it across the room. A battery acid taste leeches out from his tongue. The lamp arches low, landing feebly on the floor with the thick glass shade still intake. Jack stumbles around his desk, lurching toward his recliner. He doesn’t make it. He trips over the edge of the dark green rug and lands forward onto his face. There’s a wet snap. He tries to huff out a laugh but the only sound he can make is a burbly hiss, like a tire losing its air.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Any doubts that Hannibal has have been thoroughly demolished. This isn’t a trick, some secret back room with a willing actor. Time did reverse. He holds his breath, waiting for Jack to stand upright. Jack coughs and clears his throat. He gets up slowly, dusting off the front of his pants for show. He stands upright and locks eyes with Hannibal.   
“Ta da,” Jack says sarcastically.  
“What would happen if I dropped a teacup in here? Would it shatter and then gather itself together?”  
Jack smiles revealing a charming gap between his front teeth. “Yes,” he says.  
Hannibal looks to Will for confirmation since he still isn’t sure of Jack’s character. Will nods.  
“I tried something like that once. I dropped my whiskey tumbler. It shattered. But then time looped back, kinda like reversing a video, and it came together as if nothing happened,” Will says.  
“Is there anything you would like to break?” Jack asks.  
Hannibal raises a brow at the remark. “Not at the moment no. We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Hannibal Lector.” Hannibal extends his hand to Jack. Jack smirks as he crushes Hannibal’s hand just enough to crack a knuckle.   
“Jack Crawford,” he says.  
It isn’t what Hannibal expects, shaking hands with a ghost. Jack’s flesh is warm and tender, his grip is strong and very corporal. Hannibal feels the ground drop a few inches from his feet. His balance sways as his eyes roll back. The room feels like it’s expanding and collapsing at the same time. Almost as if it is breathing. Will places his hands firmly on Hannibal’s shoulders to steady him.  
“Don’t worry. It’s just a dizzy spell. I used to get them the first few times I came here. We’ll go back now and get you a nice cold glass of water.” Will’s whispers to Hannibal send chills down the side of his neck. He takes in a deep breath while Will is still near and holds him in his lungs.   
Will steers Hannibal back to the closet.  
“Next time bring Alana.” Jack calls out. “Her and I need to have a chat about tampering with people’s belongings.”  
Will stops, after a step so does Hannibal. Will turns to Jack.  
“Did she do this? Did she do something to your cigars?”   
Jack shrugs his shoulders. Will stares at him hoping for clarification. But Jack only stares back. Reluctantly Will turns back around and continues with Hannibal to the closet.  
“Oh, and Hannibal,” Jack calls out again from the comfort of his leather recliner.   
They both stop walking at the same time now. Hannibal doesn’t turn to look at Jack, the dizziness won’t allow it. “try not to be a bad influence on Will. He’s like a teacup. But if you shatter him, he’ll stay broken.”  
“Good night Jack,” Will says.  
Will shuts the door behind him while they are still standing. It takes longer for their eyes to adjust to the dark this time. Will turns Hannibal to face him.  
“How’s the dizziness now?”   
“Not much better,” Hannibal says. His throat clicks as he tries to swallow.  
“Okay. Sit down, carefully, there, that’s it. Now bring your knees to your chest. Focus on breathing.” Will sidesteps around Hannibal to sit behind him with his legs enveloping Hannibal’s body. He places his palm against Hannibal’s forehead, titling his head back to rest against Will’s body. Will feels Hannibal tremble between his legs.  
“I know this is a little weird. But it helps with the spins to be anchored. Just keep taking full breaths.”  
Hannibal shifts, pressing his body further into Will. Will closes his eyes and tries to divert his attention from the stirring emotions in his stomach and his cock. Will whispers the counts the same as last time, with no idea how his low voice is affecting Hannibal. The dizzy spell is practically gone judging by how his eyes are able to focus on one point. But he’s also half hard. Hannibal holds his breath and does his own count.  
The light under the door changes back to the harsh white that Will left on in his room. Will moves Hannibal’s head back and takes his hand away. He stands up, stepping around Hannibal to get to the door.  
“Stay there for a minute,” Will says.  
Hannibal nods, grateful for a moment of peace before getting up since even a semi hard cock would be quite noticeable in his thin trousers.   
Will opens the door and they both blink against the harsh overhead light. Will steps out of the closet and rubs the back of his neck.   
“Okay,” he sighs. “release your legs and stretch them out in front of you. Place your hands palms down on the floor. Feel how solid it is. Roll your neck a little, test to make sure that dizzy spell is really gone.”  
Hannibal does exactly as he’s told, mystified by the affect it’s having on him. Will could order Hannibal to crawl out of the closet on all fours and Hannibal would do it. His mouth fills with saliva. He’s back to being semi erect again. Will offers his hand to help Hannibal stand. He is stronger than Hannibal anticipated, leaving him off balance as Will pulls him up. Hannibal stumbles into Will’s arms. Their eyes meet. Their breaths entangle in the close space. Their hands are still clasped together, resting between their heaving chests.   
“Maybe you should lie down. I’ll clear a spot for you on the bed.”  
“What a glorious and rather comforting idea,” Hannibal says while still holding onto Will.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Will shyly looks away as he removes himself from Hannibal’s grasp. Hannibal steadies himself to balance without Will’s support. He sees a flicker of movement from behind him. The closet door opening? He turns his head much too quickly, sending his vision into overdrive. Hannibal’s stomach lurches, as does his unstable body.   
“Will?” He says weakly.  
Will reacts immediately, pulling Hannibal by his shoulders into his body and guiding him to fall sideways onto the bed. One of Hannibal’s hands lightly clasps Will’s waist while the other is tucked uselessly under his body, fingertips brushing against the fabric of Will’s sleeve as Will's arm snakes around the back of Hannibal's neck. They’re both panting from exertion. Hannibal opens his eyes to see Will gazing at him intently.  
“I’m feeling regretful for having dragged you into my world,” Will says.  
“I got here due to on my own personal curiosity, but I appreciate the company,” Hannibal responds.  
“How about that glass of water?”  
Only one thing sounds better to Hannibal than that refreshing water right now.  
“I think I need to be anchored again,” Hannibal says.  
Will can feel the ache of desire emanating from his irises.  
He squeezes Hannibal’s shoulder firmly and exhales harshly. He inches forward to close the space between them that feels like mere inches and limitless at the same time. Will pauses to look up at Hannibal for a moment. He swallows quickly and brings his lips to Hannibal’s, trying not to think about the implications of kissing a man that he pulled onto his bed, about what Alana said about Jack being in the closet and how it’s projection, about how sometimes at night it’s a faceless man in his fantasies bringing him to climax instead of a woman.   
Will lightly presses against Hannibal’s lips. He does this a few more times, becoming more comfortable with the prickle of another man’s facial hair rubbing against his skin. His grips the side of Hannibal’s neck with one hand while the other presses into the small of Hannibal’s back. Will experimentally moves his mouth down a tick to suck Hannibal’s bottom lip into his mouth so that his teeth can test the plumpness of the other man’s lips for themselves.   
A very quiet moan is released from Hannibal. His hands have refrained from roaming the unknown territory of Will’s body; one hand grasps a bicep while the other kneads a hipbone.   
Will pulls Hannibal closer, opening his mouth for a deeper kiss, his tongue carefully lining the inner edge of Hannibal’s bottom lip. Will explores sliding his tongue alongside Hannibal’s which twitches in response. Will retreats a little, pulling back to re-slot his mouth against Hannibal’s so that he can suck his top lip into his mouth. He bites down a little harder, eliciting a definite moan from Hannibal this time. Will’s hips twitch forward at the sound, inadvertently causing their erections to bump against one another. Will pauses kissing Hannibal to rest their foreheads together. They take this moment to swallow and catch their breaths. Will can feel his shirt sticking to his sweaty back. He shifts to regain some feeling in his arm that he’s laying on. His hardness rubs against his pants. He knows he’s close, just a few stokes from Hannibal would send him over the edge.   
Will casts his eyes down to the front of Hannibal’s pants which are impressively tented. There’s a damp spot as well. Will can’t believe that he made that happen, that he had the power to make someone like Hannibal, who has his own café and can stand up to Alana and who doesn’t have a dead man living in his closet, hard enough to seek release.   
Will retreats further into his own space. Hannibal feels those inches as if they are miles.   
“I’ve never done that before,” Will quietly says.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Hannibal wants to say something witty to tease Will but this doesn’t seem to be the proper time or place to do so. There’s a delicate balance existing on breaking branches, one gust of wind or tug of a belt could ruin them both.  
“I feel much more grounded now,” Hannibal lies. His heart is pounding in his chest and his hard length. His muscles are coiled tightly, aching for release and the harsh light hurts his blown pupils.  
But if this is as far as Will is willing to venture tonight, then Hannibal is willing to stand beside him and wait.  
“I umm, hate to spoil the moment but I can’t help thinking about Alana. I mean, I think Jack was alluding to Alana poisoning his cigars. I know that she was going to get his position after he retired. But would she really go that far to get it? Or was he just saying something to get my attention? And I know you don’t like her but maybe you can help me with getting her to see Jack.”  
“Perhaps I was quick to judge Alana. How about I invite you both over for dinner at my house? Some good food and light conversation may lessen the severity of the situation, making it easier to guide her back here to speak with Jack.”  
The beaming smile that Will delivers to Hannibal is more nourishing than the doctor’s heart tartar Hannibal ate last night for dinner.  
“I'll take that glass of water now, please,” Hannibal says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....yes, there is a Taylor Swift quote from her new album Folklore in this chapter. It slipped in before I realized what I was writing. I guess that's a testimate to how many times I've listened to that album.


End file.
